


For Time to Turn Around

by superangsty



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Avengers (2012) was the last film in the MCU isn't that amazing, Established Relationship, I mean sort of, Kid Fic, Kid Tony Stark, M/M, maaaybe iron man 3 at a stretch, steve doesn't like kids, this is a rewrite of something i wrote back in 2015 i hope its actually better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 06:54:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18733897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superangsty/pseuds/superangsty
Summary: It’s fine, Steve thinks. It’s probably fine. The blast probably just messed with his systems, he’s fine.It’s fine, he tells himself, even as he looks up and sees Iron Man falling from the sky.*Tony gets de-aged. Steve isn't handling it so well.





	For Time to Turn Around

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Seeing You As Someone Else](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4284444) by [superangsty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/superangsty/pseuds/superangsty). 



> Title from Ben Platt's "Older", I think.
> 
> So hi. I have other stuff to write, probably, but I'm currently reliving my old marvel obsession not by watching the films but by apparently rewriting my old fic. Like I said in the tags, I sure hope this is an improvement on the old one because if not that's embaaarrasing.
> 
> I think I've added a link to the original fic, Seeing You As Someone Else. So there's that.
> 
> Enjoy!

There’s an explosion, a big one, and it feels like the entire city is shaking. Something’s wrong, Steve feels it like a weight in his chest, but his eyes are still adjusting after the flash, and there’s too many people running screaming, drowned out only by the sounds of his teammates shouting into the comms.

That’s it. Tony’s voice isn’t in the mix.

It’s fine, Steve thinks. It’s probably fine. The blast probably just messed with his systems, he’s fine.

It’s fine, he tells himself, even as he looks up and sees Iron Man falling from the sky.

Steve looks around, trying to stay calm enough to analyse the situation. The explosion, whatever it was, didn’t damage anything more than the fight already had. That doesn’t bode well, but Steve doesn’t care. Thor’s off-world, Banner’s at home – it was one guy with a lot of fancy weapons and a power complex, everyone had agreed it wasn’t worth bringing the big guy in. Hawkeye, Widow, the SHIELD agents anxiously guarding the border of the fight, none of them are strong enough to deal with this.

He breaks into a sprint.

The armour hits the ground seconds before Steve can get there, so he hastily manoeuvres the suit into a more comfortable – well, a more _human_ position, and rips the face plate off.

It’s not Tony inside the suit.

 

*

 

Tony blinks once, twice. He’s not in his bed, he’s not in his room. The ceiling is bright white, sterile. There’s a tube in his arm and a mask on his face, and he can hear monitors beeping over the quiet hustle and bustle outside. So a hospital.

With great effort, he turns his head to the side, careful not to wince in pain. There’s a plain, tired-looking man in a suit sat beside his bed, who tenses at Tony’s movement.

“He’s awake,” the man mutters, though to whom Tony isn’t sure. He stops thinking about it so much when the man points a gun at him. “Who are you.”

It’s not a question, it’s an order. Tony struggles for a moment, moving to sit upright, and pulls off the oxygen mask. He keeps his face expressionless, looks straight into the man’s eyes. “Tony Stark,” he says, voice level. This is nothing he’s not been through before.

The man sighs and lowers his gun. “I worried as much.” He looks carefully at Tony, as if he could explode at any moment. “What year is it, Tony?”

“Nineteen seventy-eight.” He doesn’t need to think about it for even a second. In fact, his brain feels perfectly normal, present circumstances considered.

“I see,” replies the man, and he mutters “memory loss” to no-one again.

He’s acting like something terrible’s just happened, and Tony has _really_ misjudged this situation, because he doesn’t think he’s injured, his head feels fine, and despite the gun he doesn’t think this man wants to hurt him. He looks worried.

“You’re eight?” The man asks, and Tony nods. “Shit.”

There’s a beat of silence, and Tony actually hasn’t been through something like _this_ , whatever it is, before, so he raises his chin and asks “have my parents been contacted?”

The man doesn’t respond. “I’m going to get you home, okay? Can you trust me?”

No, Tony wants to say, he can’t. But he finds himself nodding anyway.

“My name is Agent Phil Coulson, I’m with the Strategic Homeland Intervention and Enforcement Logistics Division. SHIELD. You know it?”

Tony nods again. He’s not meant to know about SHIELD, but sometimes from his hiding spaces he can hear Father and Aunt Peggy talking about it.

“The year is two-thousand and fourteen, you’re usually 44. There was an incident.”

 

*

 

“I’m not sure how much we should tell him,” Coulson’s voice says over the phone. “I’m sure you understand, Steve, how important…”

Steve is fine. He’s fine. Steve is fine because Tony is fine. Well, he’s eight, but he’s alive. So, Steve is fine.

He understands what Coulson is saying. They can’t afford to do anything that might overwhelm Tony, because if at 44 the man is considered a flight risk, at 8 they might as well consider him gone. “Bruce is our best bet, I’ll clear the others out.”

Maybe it would be best if Steve cleared off for a while. Boston, maybe. DC. Anywhere but New York, because sure, he was delaying their meeting, but if he could just – if he could skip the part where Tony recognises him, where Tony resents him, and just come home when everything is back to normal. That would be. Easier. For everyone.

“Thank you. And Steve – “

He can’t do it, though. It’s _Tony._

“Yes, I’ll call Pepper. He’ll need clothes, and a – and a room, I suppose.”

“Steve, I’m sorry. We’ll get him back.”

“Understood, sir,” Steve replies, and hangs up.

 

*

 

If more than three Avengers leave Stark Tower at the same time, people notice. People assume they’re headed out on a mission, so they get out their phones and they snap and they tweet and, of course, they call the press. It’s less than ideal.

It’s not great that they get any media attention at _all_ , in Phil’s opinion. Getting on the news for saving the world is one thing, but when the whole of America seems desperate to know about their personal lives? Well, Phil’s just lucky that, besides Tony, most of the time the Avengers only get recognised out of uniform if they’re coming in or out of the tower – any other time and they’re able to blend in with the crowd, maintain their secret identities.

It’s not much help to him, however, that the paparazzi are camped outside the entrance, yelling “Agent! Agent, who’s the kid? Is he yours? What are the Avengers doing right now? Do you have a secret family? Does one of your teammates?” as he fights through the crowd, a shell-shocked Tony that, thankfully, nobody has recognised, clutching at his wrist.

Jesus Christ, he should have just flown in. But Bruce gets all pouty and moans about the environment when people use the chopper for short-haul flights.

The lobby is blissfully silent when they step inside, and Phil walks straight past the receptionist and security guards to enter the Avenger’s private elevator. When they’re alone on the ride up, Tony speaks for the first time in an hour.

“I thought you were a spy?”

Phil cocks his head to one side. “I am. Why do you ask?”

Tony shrugs. “Can’t be very good if the press knows who you are.”

This, this is a Tony that Phil can understand. He’s not quite got the level of confidence to back up the bullshit he’s trying to spout, covering up how much all this is freaking him out. Phil rarely takes what Stark says at face value, especially not his insults, but even if that weren’t the case the way this kid is still gripping his wrist tells him he’s scared.

Bruce is sitting quietly, cross-legged on an armchair when they get up to the living area. When he catches sight of them he very nearly flinches, but quickly puts a soft smile on his face and jumps up, holding out a hand for Tony to shake.

“Tony, hi. I’m Doctor Bruce Banner.”

Tony ignores the hand and looks up at Phil, eyes wide. “I thought you were taking me home.”

There’s a tremble in his voice and already Phil is regretting this, regretting this whole goddamned situation, because of _course_ Tony thought he’d meant the mansion, but the mansion isn’t _there_ any more, it’s a fucking department store, and Phil has no idea what to do.

He crouches down so that they can see eye to eye. “You built this _whole_ place yourself, Tony,” he says, voice soft and patient, carefully ignoring the tears Tony was trying to blink away. “And you live here with all your best friends, and you have a workshop where you build things all day.”

Tony’s calming down now, so Phil gives him a rare smile and pats him on the shoulder. “And I’m your favourite,” he adds off-hand as he’s standing up.

Bruce rolls his eyes dramatically, which makes Tony give a small huff of laughter. Tony stands quietly for a moment, considering. “MD or PhD?”

“PhD,” Bruce replies, so quickly that his words practically cut Tony’s off. He nods in approval. “Bio-chemistry and nuclear physics.”

“How many do I have?” Tony leaves Phil’s side to go and sit down with Bruce.

This is his cue to leave. “Seven,” Bruce replies, giving Phil a subtle nod as he edges to the kitchen. “Engineering, mostly. A couple in computer science.”

“Computer science?”

 

*

 

They stay out late, really late, because Clint and Natasha never pass up free booze and Thor snuck some Asgardian stuff into the bar so that he and Steve can have fun, too.

Not that Steve _has_ fun, but at least he’s buzzed enough to not think about Tony Fucking Stark for a while. Instead, he watches Tasha drink Clint under the table, and then proceeds to do the same to every guy that tries to flirt with her. At some point Thor gets up on a table to start singing and Steve turns to grin at Tony and Tony isn’t there. Obviously.

Clint is there, though, and he squints at Steve like he doesn’t quite recognise him, so Steve decides it’s time for them to go home.

“I get it, y’know,” Clint says as they’re walking home, an arm thrown round Steve’s shoulders. “I get it.”

He’s leaning heavily on Steve, too drunk to walk straight, and he probably won’t even remember this in the morning so Steve humours him. “Get what, Hawkeye?”

Clint waves his free hand around vaguely, taking a few moments to reply. “Missing someone,” he replies, voice suddenly turning dark. “Losing someone.”

“I – “ Steve doesn’t know how to respond, or even if he should. Clint is a very, _very_ private man, and if he remembers telling him this in the morning he’ll probably resent Steve forever. “Tony isn’t gone,” he sighs. “Just… not quite here.”

“The empty bed,” Clint continues, ignoring him, “you get used to it after a while. Couple days. Nightmares come back, life goes on, y’know?”

They’ve stopped walking, stood outside the tower, and Clint watches him. He’s waiting for a reply. Steve doesn’t have one.

“Talk to me any time, Cap,” he says finally, and with a grin and a mock salute he stumbles inside, leaving Steve on his own.

The next morning, Steve wakes up with no hangover, no headaches or pain or discomfort of any sort, and groans.

He gets out of bed and pulls on some workout gear, not bothering to look at the clock beside his bed; he already knows he only slept a couple hours. It’s probably not even light outside yet, god.

People are always saying how running helps clear the mind, leaves you with only one thing to focus on. That’s never been the case for Steve. When he was a scrawny kid with something to prove, running was pain and wheezing and knees buckling under the pressure. Now, running is so effortless that he doesn’t have to think about it at all. His joints never ache, his breathing is never laboured, he never breaks a sweat. He could probably keep up the same pace indefinitely, but anyone who’d tried to test that (read: Tony) had got bored after the first few hours.

The marathon had been interesting. He’d won, of course. Broken a few world records, before the various athletics boards had decided superhumans weren’t allowed to compete against the regular folk and disqualified him.

Someone had said, mockingly, that maybe Steve should round up a few other superheroes and run a separate race. He had to work very hard to restrain from punching them, instead just making a joke and giving one of his trademark Captain America smiles.

He’s run right around Manhattan by the time he returns to the tower, and the sun is now fully up, along with the people of New York. They smile at him and take pictures of him and he doesn’t put up a fight, just runs a little faster so he can get home quicker.

 

*

 

Tony wakes up in a huge, comfortable bed. The room around him is peaceful, the sheets are probably – no, definitely silk. It was a dream. It was all a weird, crazy dream, and now he’s going to open his eyes and get up and Jarvis will be making him breakfast.

“Jarvis?” he calls out, hoping to get a head start on this breakfast thing.

“Yes, sir?” Jarvis replies, but there’s something not quite right about his voice and Tony snaps his eyes open. The canopy above his bed isn’t there.

He bolts up, feeling his chest clench and his breathing shorten. “Jarvis, Jarvis what’s going on, where am I? Where are _you_?”

“You are in Stark Tower, sir. I’m fetching Agent Coulson now.”

Tony gets his feet on solid ground and tries to calm his breathing, blinking wildly to stop his head from spinning. It doesn’t help when, a few seconds later, a man who is definitely not Agent Coulson runs into the room.

He slows himself down and stands, cautiously, across the room from Tony, looking straight into his eyes. “Agent Coulson was unavailable, so was Bruce,” he says. “I’m Agent Barton, you can call me Clint.”

He looks ill, Tony thinks. There are dark circles under his eyes, standing out like bruises on his tanned skin.

“I’m your favourite,” the man, Clint, says with a wink, and Tony can’t stop the laugh that comes out.

“Coulson said the same thing.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet he did,” Clint says with a smile, and steps closer. “Can I sit?”

Tony doesn’t say anything but he pats the stretch of bed next to him, waiting for Clint to sit down next to him, his movements still seeming so contained, so careful. Like Tony is a scared deer.

“Where’s Jarvis?” Tony asks, and Clint pulls in a sharp breath. “Is he okay? His voice…”

“Jarvis is your what, your butler?” Clint asks, and Tony nods even though it’s stupid, even though Clint should know that because he’s _here_ , Tony heard him.

“I think…” Clint starts, and then mutters ‘goddammit, Tony’ under his breath like Tony isn’t right next to him. “It’s been over thirty years. There’s no cure for old age, Tony, I’m sorry.”

“The voice?”

“You built a computer.” He frowns. “An artificial intelligence, you know what that is?”

Tony nods again. He isn’t _stupid_.

“Guess you gave him his voice. And his name. He’s all through the building, so if you ever need to talk…”

“I’m here, sir,” comes Jarvis’ disembodied voice, and this time Tony jumps, because his brain is still trying to process the fact that this Jarvis isn’t _his_ Jarvis.

Tony thinks about this for a while, thinks about everything he’s had to experience in the past 24 hours.

“How many people live here?” he comes up with finally, because so far three separate people all claim to live with him, and sure Coulson did _say_ he lived with his best friends but he didn’t think there’d be so many.

“Seven, including you. You’ve not met Steve and Natasha yet, but you’ll like them. Natasha’s scary but she’s _super_ cool.”

Seven. Okay. That’s alright, he can deal with that. The mansion had more staff than that, anyway. “You’re all superheroes?”

“Yup,” Clint replies, popping the ‘p’.

“What do I do?”

“Fight bad guys, same as all of us.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Tony letting himself relax around Clint and Clint pretending not to notice.

“You want breakfast?” Clint asks, and wow, Tony had forgotten how hungry he was in all the excitement. His stomach rumbles before he has the chance to reply.

He wants to curl up, hide in embarrassment at his body betraying him so easily, but Clint just grins and ruffles his hair, before picking up his phone.

“Awesome. I sent Coulson to get me the greasiest breakfast he could find, so he’s probably in line at McDonald’s right now? You like McD’s?”

Tony is not allowed to have McDonald’s, so he doesn’t know, but he kind of really wants Clint to like him so he nods enthusiastically. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“Sure thing, buddy. I’ll call Phil now.”

 

*

 

Steve is scared.

He’s leaning against the wall in the corridor outside Bruce’s lab, watching through the window as Bruce scans him with just about every machine he has and Tony ignores him to play with Legos, and he’s scared.

Aliens, fine. Whatever. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Weird, unidentifiable tech that causes havoc until Tony can figure out what to do? Sure. But Tony isn’t around to figure this one out, not really, and Bruce is looking less and less hopeful by the minute.

It’s been a week now, and nothing seems to be changing. They’ve been trying non-stop to get hold of Thor, with no luck, and it’s wearing on everyone.

So yeah, Steve is scared.

He’s not actually _met_ this Tony yet, because he’d been hoping it would all be fixed by now and he’d be able to avoid all of… that. Steve’s been making his excuses to leave every time it starts to look like they’d cross paths, and everyone is too preoccupied with the whole mess to call him out on it.

The kid’s been sticking to Coulson like his shadow, which Adult Tony will never be able to live down if – _when_ – they get him back. Steve wonders briefly if he should be jealous, but he actually kind of gets it. Tony doesn’t exactly sing about his childhood from the rooftops, but sometimes, when it’s just the two of them lying in the dark, he’ll talk to Steve about the Peggy he knew, about the shiny badge he stole from her too many times to keep track, how he’d always trusted that she – and the agents under her – would have his back.

“Are you Steve?” a small voice asks, pulling Steve out of his thoughts with a jump.

It’s harder to look at him up close. It’s the _eyes_ , god, those eyes. He wishes he could be anywhere but here right now.

But that’s not an option, so he puts on a smile and holds out a hand for the kid to shake. “That’s right,” he says. “Steve Rogers, at your service.”

Tony shakes his hand carefully, peering curiously at him. “Are you _really_ Captain America? Coulson said you weren’t dead but I thought he was lying. Spies lie a lot.”

Steve feels the corner of his mouth twitch at that, because it’s such a _Tony_ thing to say, but he pushes the thought out of his mind. “Nope, not lying. It was you who found me, actually.”

Well, it was his team. The team that he funded, in any case. He wasn’t lying, just… stretching the truth.

“Oh.” Tony blinks up at him. “Sorry.”

Steve doesn’t have to ask what Tony means, because he’s watched him from a distance: struggling to understand technology _he_ created, yelling at JARVIS, head tilted up to the ceiling the way Steve used to do, tears streaming down his face not in anger but frustration when he realises his favourite shows aren’t on TV any more, humiliation when he has to ask for help with something. He’s seen him sat at the window, staring down at this bustling, noisy city and not recognising any of it, and Steve is probably the only one who really _gets_ it.

He doesn’t say that, though. It’s those _fucking_ eyes, making it so hard to look at the kid, so he shuts down his expression, says “I have to go,” far more sharply than necessary, and turns on his heels to walk away before he can hear a response.

 

*

 

Bruce is nice. Tony spends most of his days down in his lab, sitting and playing with the toys Ms. Potts got him while Bruce tests his blood and squints at weird machines that Big Tony had apparently built for him. He knows that Bruce is working so hard because he wants Tony gone, wants his own Tony back, but he’s doesn’t take it personally. This is just what scientists do, they solve things. He doesn’t know what will happen if Bruce solves this, if he’ll go back to his own time or die or vanish or even just stay here, two Tony Starks. He’s not too worried about it, he knows his place and it’s clearly not here.

Down in the lab Bruce gives him Indian food, and teaches him yoga, and he’s so calm and quiet that Tony can’t imagine him on a battlefield, fighting as a superhero. When he asks Bruce what his superpower is, though, he just chuckles and says ‘don’t worry about it’, which, if Tony’s learning him correctly, means he’s probably the most powerful one.

Natasha’s teaching him Russian swearwords which Tony doesn’t completely believe _are_ swearwords, because he tried one on Clint and the man had doubled over laughing. He doesn’t mind, though. She’s cool. She’s the only one who treats him like a grown-up, letting him play with electrics and soldering irons and knives, once, before Ms. Potts found them and took her to her office for _words._

She’s also the best in the team at video games, which is why most evenings they end up slouched on the couch together, controllers in hand while the others cheer Tony on and boo Natasha. (She still wins every time. Tony’s having too much fun to care.)

Clint’s an asshole, and Tony is absolutely relishing in the fact that he’s allowed to say that word. Clint thinks he’s very funny, which he is, but so far every single person he’s spoken to has told him not to let him _know_ that he’s funny, so Tony’s poker face is getting very good very fast. Sometimes he’ll pop in and chat about nonsense with Tony for a while, always, now that he thinks about it, when he feels on the verge of freaking out. For the most part, though, Clint keeps to himself – he cooks dinner for everyone on his allocated nights, but most of the time when Tony goes looking for him he’s either in the gym or, more likely, on the range practicing shooting arrows.

He refuses to teach Tony how to shoot because, as he puts it, Big Tony will use it as a chance to put ‘fucking computers or some shit’ into Clint’s bows.

Coulson actually _does_ turn out to be his favourite, even though he would never, _ever_ admit it out loud. The first couple of days, he very patiently talks him through a few of the files SHIELD has cleared him to see, explains what happened to his parents, how he met Rhodey and Ms. Potts, what happened in Afghanistan, everything that’s happened since the Avengers formed. He takes him down to Big Tony’s workshop, shows him the suits and the arc reactors and, with JARVIS’ help, answers as many of Tony’s questions about the engineering that he can.

That’s not why he’s his favourite, though. After the first few days, Coulson seems to realise that Tony is a _kid_ , and officially becomes the first adult in his entire life to treat him like one. He buys him ice cream and takes him to play in the park, gives him piggybacks and takes him to movies and Coney Island and Tony had honestly never thought he’d get to do all that stuff. Being A Kid was for other people, not Starks.

Steve won’t talk to him. He’s not sure what he’s done wrong.

 

*

 

“War Machine, you might wanna switch to repulsor blast, the bullets and explosives don’t seem to be piercing their shells.”

“Roger that, Rogers,” comes the reply, and it’s the fifth time Rhodey’s made that joke today and Steve is ready to _explode_.

Rhodey’s good, Steve knows that. He’s just never needed to get used to him in the field, and the past couple of missions have been… rocky, at best. But they need someone in the sky and they can’t exactly ask Tony.

There are these giant – beetles, Steve wants to say? Currently rampaging through the financial district, and there’s only five of them, so it shouldn’t really be a thing, except for that it’s been an hour and nobody’s been able to penetrate their armour. They’ve barely slowed them down, so far the team has had to put priority on evacuating civilians.

“Cap, I’ve got acid arrows, if I get one near a crack the stuff might leak in. Ready when you are.”

Coulson’s voice starts to cut in over Clint’s, snapping “Hawkeye, those arrows have not been cleared for use, don’t you dare – “ but it’s too late, because the first two arrows have already hit and Steve’s not completely sure what’s happening but they’re doing _something_ , because one of the beetles make a loud noise and rolls over in the street, crushing a few cars as it goes.

“Get the others, Hawkeye,” Steve orders, holding up his shield as he talks in anticipation of Natasha running towards him to take a jump, knives at the ready to stab in under the armour when she lands. “War Machine, you reckon you can lift them?”

“No way, Cap. Not unless you’ve got a shrink ray in that belt of yours.”

Great, so they can stop the creatures running but they can’t stop them writhing around in the streets, causing more property damage than when they were mobile. “Coulson, can SHIELD – “ he starts, thinking there might be a way to airlift them out, when the sky turns grey and five individual shots of lightning come down and hit them.

Thor, thank fucking god.

“I have missed you too, Captain,” Thor bellows, and shit, Steve must have said that out loud. “We need to remove these creatures, where is the Hulk?”

At home, keeping Tony distracted so he doesn’t worry. They’d each taken their turns offering to stay in his place, but he’d insisted they wouldn’t need him.

Turns out they really needed him.

“Thor, go pick him up from the tower, you can explain this to him on the way over. Rhodey –“

“Quickest for me to get to the tower for babysitting duty, Cap, I gotcha,” Rhodey replies, and zooms off after Thor.

There’s not much else the rest of them can do, so Steve calls back Clint and Natasha and they huddle by the SHIELD van as Thor arrives with Hulk, who promptly starts tossing the giant creatures into the Hudson as if they’re frisbees.

 

*

 

Clint saying “what the fuck have you done to yourself, sir?” is the first thing Tony hears as the Avengers arrive back in the tower after their quick debrief.

Tony sees Coulson shoot a glance his way. “Language,” he mutters, at the same time Steve does, and oh, hey. Steve is here too.

“No,” Clint says, grabbing Coulson’s elbow and steering him towards an armchair. “No, this is not acceptable. You were meant to stay in surveillance, what were you doing out in the _field_?”

Tony looks over at Rhodey who, clearly uncomfortable, slides off his seat and heads over to the kitchen, where the rest of the team seem to have retreated to as well. Natasha looks the same as always, besides a barely noticeable twitch in her right eye when she looks over at Clint and Coulson. Bruce looks like a different person, pale and exhausted and in weirdly ill-fitting clothes. He has no idea if Steve looks normal or not, because he’s only seen the guy a couple of times, and the last guy must be Thor, who Rhodey told him is either a god or an alien, but either way is super cool and he can _fly_.

“If there is so much as a _scratch_ on you, sir, I will kill you myself.” Clint is unbuttoning Coulson’s shirt hastily, pushing and prodding him to look for any signs of damage. There’s a huge, bright red scar across Coulson’s chest, and woah. Tony’s pretty sure that Clint’s not a doctor, he heard him saying once that he didn’t even graduate high school, so he’s not sure why he’s not asking Bruce to check for him.

“I needed a better look at them,” Coulson says weakly, and maybe Clint’s right to be worried because he sounds _sick_ , not like Tony’s ever heard him before. “I’m just tired.”

Natasha walks over and hands Coulson a cup of tea with one hand as she grabs Clint by the collar and pulls him away with the other.

The others, now apparently deeming the living area safe to enter, come over to sit, Bruce curling up in a deep cushiony armchair, and Tony’s never seen him look so small before. It’s kinda scary.

Steve tosses Coulson a t-shirt as he comes over to sit (Steve is coming over to sit!) and Coulson gratefully pulls it on.

“Every. Single. Time.” He glares at Clint, but Tony’s pretty sure there’s no malice behind it.

Clint sticks his middle finger up at him, grinning at Tony when he catches him looking.

“Phil, do you need – “ Bruce starts, looking worried about _Coulson_ when his own state isn’t much better, but Coulson waves him off.

“Just over-exerted,” he says, when he tries – and fails – to push himself up off the armchair. “I’m sorry, guys, I know it’s movie night,” he says, and even though he’s addressing the whole group Tony’s pretty sure the apology is meant for him. “But I need to rest. Clint, could you…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, apparently doesn’t need to because Clint has already jumped up and started leading him away, leaving the rest of them in awkward silence.

“So what are we watching?” Thor asks, and Tony reckons he might just be his new favourite.

Tony leans closer to Rhodey and asks quietly “what just happened?”

He doesn’t expect Rhodey to so vehemently say “nope, no, I am not having The Talk with you _again_ , MIT was bad enough. You’ll have to ask our dear Captain about that one.”

Steve stands up abruptly and leaves the room without a word. So much for that.

Thor looks at Tony in surprise. “Coulson said he’d caught you up on everything the Avengers have done, did he not…?”

“Coulson got hurt pretty bad a couple of years ago,” Natasha cuts in, her voice so even it’s practically robotic. “Clint gets worried it’ll happen again.”

“Which makes me _such_ a terrible husband, I’m sure,” says Clint, reappearing from the corridor. Natasha looks at him questioningly, and Clint shrugs. “Got kicked out for ‘being a dick’. What are we watching?”

Husband. Tony turns the word over in his head, considering. He hadn’t realised – that is, he’d known they were friends, sure, but nobody had ever – huh.

Tony had wondered, when Coulson told him he was normally 44, if that meant – whatever it was that came with being a grown-up. If he had a wife, kids, a dog. If his kids liked him. Nobody said anything about a family, though, and the fact that Big Tony lived with his friends spoke volumes. When he’d first met Ms. Potts, he’d wondered if maybe they – but when he’d asked if she was his wife, she’d laughed and said ‘you _wish_ ’.

He realises he’s been staring at Clint a moment too late, because when he takes notice of his surroundings everyone is looking at him carefully.

“Ten years,” Clint says, with a smile that doesn’t quite hide the caution in his eyes. “It’s 2014, kid. Boys can marry boys, girls can marry girls, aliens can marry – actually, I don’t know.” He looks over at Thor. “Oi, Thor, can you and Jane get married?”

“My mother said if we didn’t have the ceremony on Asgard she’d disown me,” Thor replies.  “I don’t know about Earth.”

“Cool. Bruce?”

“Not an alien, Barton, we’ve been over this.”

“Ooh, let’s watch _Alien_.”

“ _NO._ ”

 

*

 

“I think I can fix him.”

Thor is not a subtle man, so Steve wonders how zoned out he must have been for the guy to sneak up on him like that. He’s out on the landing pad watching the sunrise, ignoring the way his head is screaming at him to just _sleep_ already.

He sighs, and turns to look at Thor. “What do you need?”

“Nothing from you, Captain, don’t worry,” Thor says, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m heading back to Asgard to collect my mother, she’ll be able to reverse whatever this is.”

Thing is, though, Steve had kind of been hoping Thor _would_ need him. There’ve been days – most days, in fact – where Steve just want to scream, rip his hair out and break everything around him because he feels so fucking _useless_ in all of this. He’s not a scientist, he’s not a god. He’s just some guy who can throw a good punch.

And it’s _hard_ , watching this Tony get on so easily with everyone else, because Steve doesn’t know how to do that. Even now, he barely knows how to do that with Adult Tony, never mind with a kid who doesn’t know him and has absolutely no reason to trust him.

“He was upset, last night. When you left.”

Steve doesn’t know how to respond to that so he doesn’t, just keeps staring at the skyline.

“Steve.” Nope. “Steve, when he comes back… it’s likely he’ll remember this time.”

He’d figured. He’s already been mentally planning how, exactly, to explain to Tony why he had flat-out ignored him for three weeks. None of the possible outcomes were looking good so far.

It’s been hard enough trying to justify it to _himself_.

“I have to go,” Thor says, looking into the sky and seeing something that Steve can’t. “Talk to him, Steve.”

Gods are annoying, sometimes.

Steve isn’t gonna do it, anyway. He trudges back to his room, perfectly ready to spend the next few hours there, or days or whatever, as they wait for Tony to get back. Maybe he should pack a go-bag, he thinks, just in case Tony’s mad and tries to kick him out.

His room – Tony’s room, the room they share, is actually quite small. Maybe small is the wrong word, because Steve’s pretty sure it’s the size of his old apartment in Brooklyn, but that’s what everyone says when they see it. That it’s smaller than they’d expected.

It’s simple, too. There’s a super-king sized bed (Steve had said he’d be fine with a double, which made Tony look like he wanted to be sick), with high-count cotton sheets, bedside tables on either side bare except for their lamps, plus books on Steve’s side and Tony’s tablet and reading glasses on the other. Some scarily expensive modern art hangs over the bed, and opposite it is a dresser, the top covered in photo frames. A window takes up one wall, there are doors to the bathroom and their respective closets, and that’s it.

There’d never been much point to making it exciting, when Tony spent all of his time in the workshop and Steve was either down there with him, in the gym, or in the living area. Now, though, Steve’s spending the majority of the time in here because it’s the only place that’s _safe_ , the only place that other Tony can’t get into because he’d asked JARVIS to lock it to everyone but him, so that he can’t walk in and see all… this. Their lives, so deeply tangled together.

There’s a knock at the door. Steve stays sat on the bed, waiting for the person to either go away or for JARVIS to identify them.

“It’s Master Stark, sir.”

Obviously.

Steve wonders if there’s a policy about teammates meddling in each other’s lives.

“Let him in,” he says, and instantly the door opens gently, revealing an awkward looking Tony standing in the doorway, holding a mug and shuffling from foot to foot.

“Um,” Tony says, and Steve nods for him to come in. “Clint told me to tell you that Thor told him to tell me to bring you this…” he looks down at the mug, “sludge, he called it.”

It’s hard not to smile, because it’s not sludge, it’s the strongest coffee money (and many, many connections) can buy, brewed for an excruciatingly long time until it’s basically pure caffeine and unbearable to the human taste buds. Steve doesn’t normally have time to brew it for himself, but normal doses of caffeine don’t work on him so this is practically ambrosia to him.

“Thank you, Tony,” he says softly, taking the mug out of the kid’s hands and trying very hard not to down it like a shot.

Tony doesn’t reply, but he also doesn’t move to leave, and Steve is too preoccupied with his coffee to notice for a few seconds. When he does look over at him to ask about it, his heart drops out of his chest.

Tony’s looking at the photos.

“I – “ Tony starts, voice cracking as he looks back over to Steve. “I thought you hated me.”

Fuck Thor, fuck Clint, fuck anyone who thought it would be a good idea to set this up. He’d kill them all.

There’s not really anything for him to say. He thinks maybe he should try for an apology.

“I’m not good with kids,” is what he says instead, watching Tony warily. “Do you want to sit down?”

Tony perches on the end of the bed next to Steve. The kid’s looking at him, and he can’t, he just can’t, not those _eyes_ , so he stares straight ahead.

“So we were…” Tony glances back at the photos for a second, then fixes his gaze back on Steve. “I mean, you and him – you were.”

“We were.”

“Oh,” Tony says, and Steve thinks maybe that’s the end of it, that he won’t have to drag this conversation out any longer. “Why?”

Steve looks at him, finally. Not in the eyes, but close enough.

It’s not the same, he thinks. He’s reminding himself, over and over, that this kid isn’t Tony. Not _his_ Tony. But it’s hard to separate the two when he’s hearing the same question he’d heard too many times to count when they’d first started dating. He hadn’t realised the self-doubt had started so young.

He shrugs. “Because he’s the love of my life.”

 

*

 

It’s dark outside by the time Thor returns with Frigga, and the Avengers all squeeze into Bruce’s lab while she quietly looks over Tony.

Steve feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin.

In ten minutes, it’s done. It seems ridiculous, three weeks and all this struggle to fix it and it’s over in ten minutes. Tony’s _there_ , sat on the lab table like it’s just another Tuesday, grinning at everyone like he’s won a prize.

Steve walks out without saying anything. Because apparently that’s just what he does now.

“Steve, wait,” Tony calls out behind him, and Steve can hear from his footsteps that he’s jogging to catch up with him. “ _Wait_ , you asshole.”

A strong hand grabs his arm and he just crumbles, stopping in his tracks and collapsing into Tony’s arms, because Jesus Fucking _Christ_ it’s been a long three weeks.

Tony buries his face in Steve’s shoulder, hand reaching up to brush through his hair. “It’s okay, Steve. You did what you had to do.”

Steve just grips him tighter, and he’s not crying, Tony’s shoulder was already damp from inside the lab, or it wasn’t but who the fuck cares.

“So,” Tony says, slinging an arm around Steve’s neck and leaning back to look at him. “Love of your life, huh?”

“Oh shut up, Stark,” he says, and crashes their lips together before Tony gets a chance to respond.

 

/End

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please please leave comments and kudos if you liked it, reading you guys' thoughts means the world to me!
> 
> I really wanna do more re-writes of my old fics - if by some miracle you've read any of them and want to see a particular one, hey. Let me know!
> 
> Here's where you can find me on [tumblr](http://superangsty.tumblr.com), seriously, come bug me


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